The beauty of youth
versus the beast of aging
I'm listed in People magazine's "50 Most Beautiful" edition. My name is right there on the page, sandwiched between willowy blonde Uma Thurman and nubile blonde Scarlett Johansson.
OK, truth be told my name is just printed on an ad, one of those personalized marketing stunts magazines use to catch a subscriber's attention. Regular people, particularly gray-haired overweight women, would never fit the beautiful bill.
As a matter of fact, few over the age of 40 are in People's catalogue and those closing in on the mark are noted exceptions, praised for defying their years.
In our youth-worshiping culture, where practically everything -- ads, fashion, television, movies -- is aimed at the teen-to-20s demographic, it seems getting old is considered an offense. Articles and talk shows about Social Security or the health care crisis often point out the looming menace of older Americans as the baby-boom bogeymen and women who will throttle entitlement programs and suck dry the financial well-being of Gen X and beyond.
People magazine serves the youth market but it also provides a working journalist the rudimentary base of information about the notable and notorious of Hollywood, mainstream pop culture and "style" trends. In fact, I must credit the magazine for tipping me to an interesting documentary called "Searching for Debra Winger."
The film is sort of celluloid therapy for its maker, Rosanna Arquette, a once-hot actor whose age -- or arguable lack of talent -- has left her in the backwaters of has-beens. Struggling against the movie industry's obsessive lust for beauty and newness, she points her camera at dozens of older women, some of whom have descended from glittery A-list to dusky "what-ever happened to" ranks.
Looks matter in movie-making. Most actors, male and female, live and die on their physical appeal, but the challenge for women is amplified. As artists, they may get better at their craft as they age, but as marketable "products," their value lessens with each year.
These experiences aren't exclusive to Hollywood. Research shows that people who are good-looking get better jobs and better treatment in everything from restaurant service to health care. And while older men are generally viewed as wiser, more knowledgeable, women with laugh lines don't enjoy the same image.
So millions of women embrace lotions, potions and procedures to try to stay forever young, or at least look it. Botox eliminates wrinkles and lines at the expense of certain facial expressions. Chemical peels (doesn't that sound scary?) are said to restore skin's youthful glow for a few months. Surgery to hoist sagging jowls and cheeks -- facial and posterior -- eyelids, thighs, stomachs and, of course, breasts are becoming so common it seems that every third person has had some tinkerings, if not complete overhauls.
Then there are the pills and drugs that aid older people in keeping up their joneses; there's no sense in appearing youthful if you can't rejuvenate your pluck accordingly.
Which is fine. Whatever someone wants to do to face and body is her or his choice.
What's disturbing is that external fixes now appeal to the young. People in their 20s go under the knife to alter their appearances, some opting for the cheekbones of Johnny Depp -- described in People as "most wanted" -- instead of those of their own moms and dads. In one case, twin teenagers were transformed equally into a couple of Brad Pitt clones.
That's too weird for me. Imagine a day when high school boys will wear the face of whoever is the hour's Hollywood icon, when girls blithely undergo serial modifications to avoid looking "oh, so last year."
As for older folks in altered states, imagine them trying to cash a Social Security check or asking for the senior discount at Zippy's -- and getting carded.
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Columnists section for some past articles.
Cynthia Oi has been on the staff of the Star-Bulletin since 1976. She can be reached at:
coi@starbulletin.com.